Call Us Home
by foxy.witch
Summary: AU TW S1 DW S4/5ish. Jack's working late in the Torchwood Hub when suddenly blinding golden light fills the room and a familiar face appears. A short, sad and sweet moment between two dear friends who haven't seen each other in a long time. UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE: part three is here! Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or world of DW or TW. Obvs.
1. Part 1

Hello! It's been a while! A short, sad and sweet little one shot I dreamed and managed to write down while still vaguely asleep :) Hope you like it!

* * *

Old Friends

The Hub is dark, the soft hum of machinery and Captain Jack Harkness are all that remain.

No alien activity. Odd for a Tuesday. All the same, he gives the rest of the team the night off. Ianto presses a kiss to Jack's forehead and leaves a steaming mug of tea on his desk.

He's finishing the last dregs of earl grey when it happens.

Light, a warm glow at first, then slowly, blinding. He pulls out his sidearm, but then has to cover his eyes. He darts out from his office, spilling some papers, and ducks behind the central pillar. Gun armed at his side, Jack waits for his vision to clear of the gold haze. Jack swears he hears the last few notes of a song, a sweet and soft hum he can almost, but not quite place. Then nothing. Sudden dark and silence. And breathing.

Someone's here. He waits a beat, then sneaks a quick scan around the pillar.

And cannot believe his eyes. Surely he's mistaken. He cannot be seeing— But he knows he is.

She looks the same. Not older exactly but not a kid anymore. Guarded. Beautiful as ever.

'Rose?'

Quick as lightning she's whipped a sidearm from in her jacket—a shoulder holster!—and pointing it into the darkness, where he stands absolutely flabbergasted. Except the doctor never liked guns. So why would Rose even— He squints. Wait. Is that a—

'Rose Tyler, is that a hairdryer?'

There's a beat then, tentatively, like the echo of the girl she once was, 'Jack?'

He steps into the sliver of light and she's running and he's catching the full force of her, of Rose, Rose Tyler, and everything is right and she's raining kisses on his face and tears and I thought you were gone I thought you were dead and she is warm and wonderful and he is bursting, everything is bursting.

They're sitting on the invisible lift, the clear sky of Cardiff fathomless above them and a newspaper of fresh hot chips between them.

Rose holds up a chip, but doesn't bite in. 'So, how are you alive?'

'You should know that.'

She pauses, but they both know the answer. 'Bad Wolf.'

'Mmm.'

'Jack, I'm— I'm so sorry. I wanted to come back. But The Doctor, he—'

'It's fine Rose.' He throws a chip up and catches it in his mouth.

She draws out his name in a tone that says "we both know that's bull", 'Jack.'

'Rose.' Like a child imitating its parent.

She rolls her eyes and smiles, and he loses his breath.

He clears his throat, 'But how are you here? I thought you were in—'

'A parallel universe? Correct. Not actually quite sure how I'm here to be honest. I was— I was dreaming. I think. And there was this buzzing. In my head. So I got up, got dressed and was blow-drying my hair when wham! Gold and dizzy. Then here. Then you. Brilliant wonderful alive you. Gosh I've missed you.'

'Ditto kiddo.'

They finish their chips.

'So,' Rose licks a fingertip, 'I gotta ask it. I mean, we're both thinking it.'

He looks away, to the sky, to everything that's out there. Everyone that's out there.

'I don't want you to go,' he thinks. He doesn't realise he's said it out loud until she rests her hand on his arm.

'I know.'

They sit in silence for a while.

He catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. Gold. Not quite dust, not quite smoke. In some places, it seems to slip off her and up into the atmosphere, while in others it hovers lightly just above her skin. Jack takes a moment to look at her, really look at her, passed the immediate joy and sorrow and love that swells in him at the sight of her, and actually take her all in. Something tugs inside his chest. A knowing tug.

'Rose, love, forgive me for asking, I know it's rude to ask this of fine ladies, but how old are you?'

A sad smile. 'Ah,' she says, 'Quite a bit older than I look.'

'Quite,' he repeats noncommittally.

'I turn 133 in December,' she laughs, though the sad smile stays. 'Still quite a bit younger than you an' 'im though.'

'Quite.' The word is mostly breath.

'It's ok, you know. All in all a good life. Mickey wasn't there really long enough to notice that time moved faster over there. He did so great in getting our Torchwood up and running, but we both knew it wasn't home. He came back here and married that force of nature Martha Jones. You know she walked the Earth? Marvellous woman.' She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 'Mum and dad had a good life. Lived long. Died hours apart, peacefully dreamin'. My little brother Tony was a brilliant concert cellist, can you believe? Beautiful music. I can still hear him sometimes in my head, on the good days, when the sky is clear. He died about thirty-four years ago. Aneurysm. I was just shy of my hundredth birthday.' She lets out a shaky breath and clears her throat. 'My Doctor, the human one I mean, lived longer than most humans, but he's gone too. Held his hand to the end. I was head of Torchwood for a while, but couldn't stay long. Obviously. Suspicious, that lot. I consulted and free-lanced and travelled. Mostly I just… passed the time, you know?'

He did.

The silence rests between them. He takes her hand and squeezes. She squeezes back.

He takes her to the small bed he's set up behind a hidden wall in his office. They slip under the covers fully clothed, cheeks still cool from Cardiff bay. Their fingers interlace.

'G'night Jack.'

'Goodnight Rose.'

'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

In the morning she is gone, a light layer of gold on the pillow and the faintest shimmer on his palm.

Jack drags himself out of the bed, trying (and failing) very hard to ignore the aching weight in his chest.

It's 5.20—roughly forty minutes before Ianto will arrive laden with sweet and savoury delicacies for breakfast. Jack is making himself an Americano when it happens. The light. The gold. The brilliance.

Before even being conscious of it, he's running, arms open, grin beaming, heart bursting.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Hope y'all are having a lovely day/night wherever you are in the world!


	2. Part 2

Hello! Here's part 2! I hope you like it! Full disclosure, I fell very in love with writing this story so there's now a part 3! That'll be up soon. Thank you for the love for this random idea!

* * *

Rose has been with Torchwood Three for just over a year. She has assured Jack time doesn't pass as quickly here as in the other universe. Even with so many centuries under his belt, he cannot truly believe how the time has flown past.

They're sitting down for late-night Chinese. Ianto's ordered everyone's usual—wonton noodle soup for Tosh, seafood laksa for Gwen, Mongolian lamb for Owen, veggie truffle oil fried rice for Rose, combination chow mein for Jack, and chicken kung pao for himself. Jack watches Rose from across the table, her head thrown back with that amazing laugh of hers. Gwen is in stitches beside her and Tosh is trying not to snort into her broth. Owen, the butt of the joke, is put-out, but it won't last—Jack can already see the smile stretching the corners of his lips. That's always the way when Rose laughs: it's infectious and irresistible. Rose finally excuses herself, saying she'll wet herself if she has to keep looking at Owen's face. Owen finally cracks at that, letting out a solid guffaw as Rose dashes to the bathroom.

The laughter continues as the team recounts the latest weevil attack, which, due to some new but malfunctioning alien tech, saw Gwen pants'd, Tosh briefly but firmly magnetised to the car, and Owen with blue hair for the following week.

'No look, it's not funny alright!' Owen manages around mouthfuls of Mongolian lamb. 'I'm still finding blue on my pillowcase!'

Ianto's voice is soft but it cuts across the table with ease, 'And what about your underwear?'

Owen glares at him, but Gwen only laughs harder. Wiping tears from her eyes, she says she too better hit the bathroom.

She returns a minute later, a small pile of gold dust in her palm. The group falls silent. Gwen smiles half-heartedly and says, 'Alright, anyone wanna bet? I'm thinking twelve hours.'

Tosh clears her throat. 'Twenty-four hours.'

Owen twists his beer bottle on the table, spreading the ring of condensation at it's base a little further across the wood each time. All mirth evaporated, he speaks to the bottle, 'Nah, I reckon a couple days—three at the most.'

Jack says nothing. Ianto announces he's putting the kettle on. The others rise and clear the table.

The first time it happened had been after the first time she'd crossed over. Jack and Rose had gone to bed, he'd woken to find her gone, then she'd appeared again a little while later. Rose seemed fine—said it'd been a flash for her, a minute here, a minute there kind of thing. She treated it like a quirk. So when it happened three weeks later, Jack hadn't thought much of it. He'd quelled the team's questions, told them not to worry, assured them it was normal. When she'd reappeared forty-five minutes later, Jack had smiled, clapped her on the shoulder, and tried to quell the beating of his heart.

When it had happened two weeks later and Rose was gone for ninety minutes, Jack tried to ignore the emerging pattern.

Now, staring down at his hands, Jack wonders, not for the first time, if Rose is being completely honest.

A month later Rose is still missing.

The team feels disjointed without her. Like stepping out into the dark for that last stair only to find your foot falling through empty space. It's business as usual, but everyone seems off. In the first week, Jack watches Ianto make her peppermint tea, then remember and shake his head, pouring the tea down the sink. Owen keeps making passes by her desk, as though the repetition will somehow conjure her. Tosh always looks for her when she arrives in the morning and Gwen keeps packing Rose's go-bag in the car just in case. Jack finds himself with her name on his tongue more often than he cares to admit.

Sitting in his office, the steady and quiet thrum of machinery once again his only company, Jack decides he will have a serious discussion with Rose when she gets back.

He ignores the cold voice inside him that when with if.

Ignoring things is becoming more and more common when it comes to Rose. Like the disappearances, there are other things about her that belie her resolution that everything's fine. Rose seems prone to other inconsistencies and oddities. Her age for one. Being one hundred and thirty-four is quite the feat, even if time moves faster on Pete's world. Jack realises suddenly that in the year Rose has been with them, he's never once seen her sick, never injured, never anything other than fine and normal Rose. Except for some brief and occasional strange instances of lost time, forgetting simple things, like what's just been said or where they've just been. But these moments don't last, and she's never anything but fine afterwards. Then there's the gold dust that appears every time she vanishes. Jack has had Tosh analyse it multiple times with zero results. It's untraceable, a compound that simultaneously both is and isn't here, something that should not exist. Add that to the fact that Jack's positive he's seen the same gold in her skin on more than one occasion and he's got himself a mystery with a healthy dose of ambiguity and frustration. And perhaps therein lies the problem: Rose both is and isn't here, is therefore technically something that shouldn't exist. She is an enigma that only unravels more enigmas. They've both suspected it's the rift that enables Rose to be pulled across to her original world without ripping the fabric of both universes apart, but have never really considered why. Jack knows that the reason he's let it slide is selfish: he's so glad Rose is here, he hasn't wanted to consider the consequences—if there is any—and has believed she feels the same.

Now he wonders whether he might have been wrong. Because there is one final curiosity about Rose Tyler that Jack hasn't let himself dwell on: her sadness. The first time he'd noticed it, he'd figured it was the usual losses. He's been where she is after-all: out of her own time, out of place, lost those that loved her. He's told himself it's to keep her distracted from it by not addressing it, to not waste a single moment of their new adventures on sadness. But Jack knows deep down it's because he's known all along this period of joy could never last. He'd figured he could delay it by not mentioning it, that perhaps fate would let it slide, would let him have this one good thing. Centuries old and he is still like a child.

A noise pulls Jack from his thoughts. It's a low hum at first, lilting, almost a song. Jack knows that noise. He leaps up from his desk, knocking his chair backwards and sending papers flying, and races into the centre of the hub. Joy rises in his chest. The noise grows, a thrumming so intense it sets his teeth on edge, like standing too close to a speaker with the bass on full. He squints, reaches for his pistol on instinct.

Something is different. Something is wrong.

When the golden light comes, howling comes with it.

* * *

Sorry for the cliffhanger! Part 3 should be out in the next fortnight, just gotta finish some edits! Thanks again for reading!


	3. Part 3

Hello lovely humans! As promised, here is part three. Thank you so much for all the kind reviews and messages! I'm so glad y'all have enjoyed this bittersweet, funny little story. Until next time! xx

* * *

_We do not know how long we have been here. Time does and does not move. Here is both here and also nothere. _

_We are awake, We think. _

_How can We be sure?_

_We can only trust._

_We have been here before. Yes, many times. Not always as 'We'. _

_Once, We were only ever Alone. Alone in Nothingness. Endlessness. _

_We have travelled far. Further than far. To every End. To every Beginning._

_We grow. Becoming More each journey, each life, each loss._

_At least We are together. _

_Yes. But We must be brave._

_Then brave We will be._

_A wolf howls across time and space._

_(But We already knew that.)_

* * *

The light is blinding, as if each individual photon were an individual blade piercing into Jack's skin. He closes his eyes, but it is not enough. A fierce wind whirls from nothing, turning the Hub into a tornado. Jack feels the distinct sting of a papercut on his cheek. The sound, the light, the _force _overwhelms him. He crumples to his knees, dropping his pistol useless before him, and wraps his arms across his face.

The howling _grows_.

Jack doesn't know what to do. How can he run? And where to? How do you escape light and sound? And killed by invisible wolves? It's a new one, that's for sure. He wonders how long it will take for his body to regenerate after they've eaten him. He's trying to distract himself from the sensory overload when, amongst the shrieking and roaring, another sound falls through. A sound Jack would know anywhere.

A final lonely howl takes with it the furious wind, the blazing golden light, and every light in the Hub. Senseless by the sudden absence of light and sound, Jack counts his breaths to calm.

He opens his eyes. In the centre of the Hub stands a familiar police box. A dim halo of pale blue and warm yellow light pulses, and slowly light returns to the Hub.

Something builds in Jack's throat. He's trying to decide if it's a sob or laugh when the door opens and the Doctor, hands in that glorious mop of chestnut hair, steps out looking up at his Tardis, positively exasperated.

'What's gotten _in _to you old girl? That was the roughest ride since Sinsillery 19 during the Revolution of Asmorda! I can't even hear you properly! Is… Is that an _echo_? Blimey, that's— Well that's— I mean— That's never really happened before. How—'

Jack swallows passed the lump in his throat, manages to get out the single syllable, 'Doc?'

The Doctor whirls around, hands still in his hair, and spots Jack hunched on the floor.

'Jack?' There's the smallest moment of bird-like confusion before an enormous smile alights the Doctor's face. 'Jack my boy!' He strides across and pulls Jack up into a bone-crushing hug. Everything flies away from Jack. In that moment he is simply holding and being held and it is wonderful. When at last they finally pull away, arms still loosely about the other, they're wearing matching grins.

'Well, that sorts the _where_ part and—' The Doctor squints at Jack a moment, 'And the _when_. So all I'm missing is the _why_. And,' the Doctor tilts his head, 'I think you might be able to help with that one.' The smile fades into what Jack likes to think is the Doctor's detective face.

Their arms drop from one another. Jack tries not to feel bereft. Then memory comes back to him with alarming force. He's not quite sure where to begin. Though, as always, the Doctor beats him to it.

The Doctor gives him a look very much like that of a father finding his son's stash of naughty magazines, 'Now look here Jack, if Torchwood's up to anything, I don't want to be cleaning up your messes. I've noticed pinging happening here for the last year, so don't you even _try_ to tell me there's nothing going on because we _both_ know that's about as true as a Slitheen having nice breath and—' The Doctor rambles on, oblivious to Jack's attempts to interrupt him to actually answer his questions. Jack feels a little hysterical. _Why is it that in every regeneration he's so chatty?_

The Doctor takes a breath and Jack leaps at his one moment, but in his rush he can't get the words out right, 'She's gone again, and, well, she's been gone _before_ but never this _long_ you see, and it's been so long this time and I'm so worried and I thought I could handle it all, handle her being gone again, but I can't, Doc, I can't, and then, just before you, there was the same light but then the wind and the noise and the _wolves_ and—' Jack stops. The Doctor's face has grown more and more concerned as he's spoken, but this is not what has distracted him. They both recognise it at the same time.

Jack and the Doctor turn towards the Tardis just as it dematerialises.

There's a beat of silence. Jack's mouth hangs open.

The Doctor steps away from Jack, pointing to the

empty space where the Tardis had been. 'What? No, sorry. What? No, wait, hang on, _what_?'

Before either of them can speak again, a breeze sweeps through the Hub, leaving that same familiar song in the air. Jack relaxes a fraction—that sound only happens when Rose comes, so it must be her. Then he catches sight of the Doctor's expression—equal parts grief and wariness—and everything in him goes cold.

The gold light returns, softer than before, but it is not Rose that appears. The Tardis re-materialises, and in the falling stillness the sound of a wolf's howl, faraway and forlorn.

Then the door opens.

Jack almost erupts with joy. He wants to run to her, to sweep her into his arms, but Rose isn't looking at him. The silence grows.

The Doctor breaks it. '…Rose? Rose Tyler?'

'Quite right too.' Her smile is soft and small, and a tiny part of Jack breaks when he sees it.

Rose finally looks at him. Jack is about to tell her it's about time, but he sees something in her eyes. The sadness, yes, but now… Something else. It takes a minute to recognise what it is: guilt.

The Doctor notices too. He shifts slightly on his feet, and Jack notices the sonic screwdriver in his hand. Something else erupts in Jack too, and it isn't love. He steps in front of the Doctor, placing himself firmly between him and Rose.

'That's quite enough,' he says, pointedly looking at the Doctor's hand. The Doctor's eyes flick to him and back to Rose, but he pockets the sonic screwdriver.

'Now, we all clearly have a lot to discuss, and we can do this calmly like the adults that we are.' He turns to Rose and points a finger at her. 'You have quite a bit of explaining to do.'

Rose pulls the Tardis door closed behind her and steps out into the Hub. A melodic hum sounds and the Tardis door opens itself, and it is then that Jack realises something remarkable: the Tardis is _on_ _Rose's side_.

This registers with the Doctor too. 'It is you, isn't it?' He murmurs.

She smiles, a real one this time, and that is all the Doctor needs.

He strides across the room and pulls her into his arms.

Jack feels the grin stretch across his face. When the Doctor pulls back, Rose looks over at him.

'Jack, I'm sorry I—'

'Oh come here you,' he says, and he too pulls her into his arms and she is crying and he is crying and this time it is _he_ who rains kisses on her face in between _you're alive and you're here and you're ok I'm so glad you're ok_, spinning her around until her laughter overcomes both their tears.

When they stop spinning, the Doctor steps towards them. The trio wrap their arms around each other. Safe. Alive.

The Tardis hums. All is well.

* * *

They're sitting around the table, tea cooling in front of them. Jack glances between Rose and the Doctor. It's not uncomfortable, but they're still waiting for an explanation.

The Doctor, of course, is the first to break the silence. 'You're— You're positively covered in void stuff! How are you even still _here _and not split in at least six different spaces and times? How have you _survived_? How are you even _alive_? How— How old are you?'

'That's a bit rude Doctor,' Rose cheeks.

The Doctor nods impatiently, 'Yes, yes, rude and not ginger, but don't think that's going to stop me Rose Tyler.' He gives his famous glare, which doesn't pack quite the same punch since he lost the blue eyes and northern accent, but still works.

She frowns, 'I'm not sure.'

The Doctor's rolls his eyes, so hard Jack briefly worries he may regenerate from the force alone, but before he can butt that scrumptious head of hair in Rose gives him a look. He puts his hands up in defeat and gestures for her to continue.

Rose clears her throat, 'What I mean is, this body is 134 years old though I'm not exactly sure how old we are.'

For a moment, Jack thinks she's misspoken, but she doesn't correct herself. 'We?' He asks.

Rose rests those fathomless eyes on him and, not for the first time, reminds Jack eerily of the Doctor. When she speaks, her voice is calm and clear, 'I'm all of them.'

The Doctor looks incredulous. 'All—'

'Yes, all of them. Or rather, I should say, all of Us. Every Rose Tyler.' She looks to the Doctor. '_I am the Bad Wolf, I create myself_,remember?'

Jack doesn't quite follow, but the Doctor is nearly breathless with excitement. 'You created your_self_, you created _all_ your selves. You are all your parallel selves. _That's_ why you're covered in void stuff. That's why I see so many timelines. You've somehow… _absorbed_ them all.' Rather than look at Rose, the Doctor's eyes flicker over the space around her, 'You're practically swimming in timelines Rose Tyler.'

She looks relieved. 'I know.'

Now Jack begins to understand. 'All those disappearances, the moments of lost time and memories… You weren't just blipping to Pete's World and back.'

The Doctor answers for her. 'She was, it just wasn't only Pete's world she 'blipped' to. Was it Rose.' There's anger there, but Jack knows it's mostly hurt and worry dressing up as temper. Rose knows too, but she still winces at his tone. Before the Doctor can do any more damage, Jack takes Rose's hand. She smiles at him, and Jack can see that a little of the sadness there has waned, blooming into watery gratitude and relief.

She releases a breath. 'At first, it _was_ just Pete's world. Then the dreams came. I'd see visions of what _looked_ like my life, only a little different. But the differences got bigger and stranger. Then it wasn't just dreams—it was happening in real time. I'd see faces of people I'd swear up and down I knew one minute, then they were back to being complete strangers. Then one day I crossed over and… Well, it wasn't Pete's world.' Dropping Jack's hand, Rose holds her tea up in front of her but doesn't take a sip. 'After that there were many worlds. I never met myself, seemed only to assume the place of the self from that particular universe. It was mad and disorienting at first—I thought I was really going 'round the twist.' She pauses. A weight seems to press onto her shoulders. Jack feels a small shiver across his back. The Hub is suddenly cold, so cold Jack almost expects to see his breath mist before him. Glancing at the Doctor to make sure he's not mad, Jack sees he feels it too.

Rose's voice is quiet, 'And then there was the void. Sometimes I was in other worlds and sometimes I'd skim across the void to get there. Other times I was just in the void. In empty nothingness. That sounds like I'm repeating myself but, that's what it's like. Empty. Nothingness. At first it was terrifying. I was there, in nothingness, floating. And I thought: this is it, I'm trapped in this vast empty nothing. I'll be here forever, alone, and I'll go mad and then— What? Would I die? _Could _I die? Would this be my forever? I was terrified.' She puts her tea down and takes Jack's hand again, rubs his thumb with hers. Warmth seems to pulse from her touch and spread out into the Hub and suddenly it is not so cold anymore. Jack peaks at the Doctor to find the same expression of awe on his face as he can feel on his own.

Rose smiles at the ceiling. 'And then, just when I was gonna call it quits, there was music and voices and _memories_. In the void, I could actually let my mind be fully open and I could see everything. Finally I had room enough to think! Somehow as each Rose slipped into place in my mind it never felt smaller, only bigger.'

The Doctor catches Jack's eye. Neither of them say it out loud, but they are both thinking it: _bigger on the inside_.

Rose continues, oblivious to Jack and the Doctor's silent conversation. 'And it near killed me Jack,' she looks at him suddenly with fathomless brown eyes, 'not telling you, well, _everything_. But I wasn't quite sure where to begin.' Letting go of his hand, Rose feathers her fingers unerringly over his cheek where, only a short while ago, there'd been a papercut. He feels a slight tingling sensation where her fingers touch his skin, almost warm, then she drops her hands in her lap. 'I still don't really understand it or know how to explain it. Even now it doesn't feel like I've put it into words properly.' She pauses, takes a deep breath and won't meet his eyes. 'And to be honest, I was worried I wouldn't be your friend anymore, that knowing all of Us were in me would take away what you and I already had. That I'd be too different, too much _other_, not enough _Rose_.'

The shame he can feel from her is nothing compared to his own: here was his friend, stranded by her experiences, her sadness, and feeling unable to come to him, to share. Fear is a pretty paralytic, but especially so when twined with loneliness, and he owns more than his fair share of both. Jack vows in this moment to be there for every Rose wrapped up in his beautiful friend.

The Doctor, mind ever-ready for puzzles, returns to the main conundrum. 'But… _How_? How were you able to absorb each Rose, each timeline, instead of just merely encountering them? How did you just come and go from the void like that? None of this should be possible. _You _shouldn't be possible. Unless…' It seems to dawn on him all at once. His eyes widen, flick between Rose and the Tardis. 'You're with her. That's it, isn't it? You're with her, with the Tardis. You're,' his voice falls away as he looks at Rose. He says, mostly to himself, 'Somehow_ you_ contain a time vortex. But, no. That, that doesn't make sense. Does it? Can it? Do you?'

A noise comes from the Tardis. It's small at first, a light hum. As it grows it becomes Rose's voice, echoing around the room, '_I looked into the Tardis, and the Tardis looked into me_.' Over and over again, until the words blur into something less like a voice and more like a song, a very familiar song— the song Jack has been hearing whenever Rose appears, the very same one he hears whenever the Tardis appears. The smallest shimmer of gold waves flicker across Rose's skin. And Jack can see it, there in her eyes: Bad Wolf. The time vortex. A human Tardis. Inside _and_ outside of time. Not a paradox, but a multiplicity. Eventually her voice and the song fade back to stillness and silence, and though the golden light on her skin dims, Jack's positive it's still there. It will always be there.

Something lifts between the three of them, some unknown tension evaporates. Jack feels a lightness in his chest, and love, blooming. The Doctor puts his hand palm up on the table before Rose, and Jack follows suit. Rose glances between the two of them, tears shinning her eyes. She reaches out, puts a hand into each of theirs. Matching grins slowly stretch across their faces, and when Rose finally laughs, it is the most beautiful sound in the universe.

* * *

Like everything, it takes time.

Rose resumes her place at Torchwood Three. Her new knowledge and memories are invaluable, though sometimes at a cost. There are the headaches and the dizziness, the occasional disorientation and time loss, but Rose does not let this stop her.

Apparently every version of her is stubborn.

She grows better at controlling her 'blipping', as they've dubbed it. Rose screws her nose up every time someone says it, but it's far less of a tongue-twister than 'interdimensional quantum-entangled time vortexing'.

The Doctor stops by more frequently, and everyone pretends not to know why. Jack grows fond of watching Rose and the Doctor. The Doctor's utterly besotted with her, which isn't new, but now there's a touch of hero-worship in there too. Of course, Jack's always known Rose is a hero, but he likes that now all of time and space does too.

On nights when it's quiet and the rest of the team go home, Jack and Rose sit on the invisible lift, eating chips and watching the stars. It's peaceful and familiar. Sometimes they tell old jokes or new stories, or vice versa, but mostly they sit in comfortable silence.

Tonight is a comfortable silence night, until Rose, her face turned to the night sky, says softly, 'Be my friend forever Boe?'

'_Forever_ forever kiddo,' Jack puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her hair.

Rose tucks her head into his shoulder. 'Sounds good to me.'

* * *

Hope y'all liked it! Couldn't resist a lil bit of a soppy ending! Cheers xx


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